Not Enough
by gilmorefanforever
Summary: Major spoilers for the end of season four, specifically "The Critic in the Cabernet." Brennan hates hospitals. They're worse when Booth's there.


Not Enough

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Not mine.

**WARNING: **This entire fic is based off the spoiler photos and the casting sides for "The Critic in the Cabernet," the penultimate episode of season four. I don't know how you would miss the spoilers for that one… But regardless, if you don't want to be spoiled, stop right here.

Really. Stop.

**--**

The sterile smell of hospitals has always made you uncomfortable. You find this strange, considering the sterility of the steal autopsy tables and every other surface of the lab is something you have always loved. There, the cleanliness is calming, the complete opposite of what the building houses. Death is, by all definitions, incredibly messy. In hospitals, however, the smell of various chemicals and filtered air is just a bitter reminder of what happens inside. People live. People suffer. People die.

At least when you get them, they aren't in pain anymore.

A shudder creeps through your body—from the cold air, maybe. Or how familiar this feels. You've been standing outside the doorframe for what feels like hours, although in reality it's only been a few minutes. He's lying on the bed, tubes protruding from various points on his body, dressed in a hospital gown that he somehow manages to appear manly in. Hopefully someone brought him pudding. You should go find a nurse, ask her to do that.

Translation: you should run away before he notices you there. It's a miracle he hasn't already—whatever he's watching on his television must be very fascinating. You quietly turn to walk away—

"Bones," his voice calls out. You should have known you were speaking too soon. "You don't need to run, you know. The doc would have mentioned it if this was contagious."

Booth's smiling. How is he smiling? You, most certainly, are not smiling.

"I was going to…" You gesture lamely down the hall. "I thought you would want pudding." The excuse sounds more like that, an excuse, out loud than it did in your head.

He grins again. "They brought me some with lunch. But if you could score me some more, I'd happily eat it. Later, though." He points to a chair at his bedside. "Come sit down."

You oblige; what else can you do? And you've been worried about him. It's almost impossible to believe that it was only earlier today that you were working on a case, as if everything was normal, as if your partner wasn't a time bomb waiting to explode. Or collapse, as it turned out.

And you can't help but to feel that this is your fault. You asked too much, pushed too hard. Argued with him.

_Of all the childish things you had ever seen Seeley Booth do, this was close to the top of the list. He ran out of an interrogation! He left _you_ of all people, alone with a suspect! What the hell were you supposed to do?_

_When you finally caught up to him, breathless, you clenched his wrist. "Booth, what's wrong with you?"_

_His eyes still had the same wild look you had seen moments ago. "I can't do this!"_

_"Solve a murder investigation?" you asked, confused and honestly a little concerned, "I'm fairly certain you can. I've seen you do it countless times."_

"_No! Not that!"_ _He gestured between the two of you, grasping for words. "This! I can't be your... sperm donor!"_

"So… nice weather we've been having, right?" he jokes, trying to dissipate the awkwardness that settled across the room the moment you sat down.

"Lovely," you try. Your voice is flat, and it sounds far from sincere. "How's your head?"

"Lovely," he responds, mimicking you. You glare at him. "It's fine. They gave me drugs." He holds up arm, and points to a tube. "See? That one. Wait…" His other arm shoots up. "I meant that one."

_You were shocked. If he had such a problem with this, why didn't he voice it earlier? "But you said..._"

_He didn't seem to be listening to you. "I thought I could, but I can't!" _

"_I can get another—"you tried to offer. He cut you off. _

"_No!" _

"_Booth." You tried to be reasonable. "If you don't want to, I need another candidate who will—"_

"_Bones, I don't think you should do this."_

_Oh._

It's silent.

Booth's staring at his hands. You're staring at him. When he finally looks up to meet your eyes, the silence breaks.

"Bones…" "Booth…" You both laugh at your timing.

"You first," you prompt quietly.

He stares at you for a long moment, the way he does right before he's about to impart some profound "truth" upon you. You've come to both love and dread this look.

"I'm going to be all right."

_Maybe you should have been offended. It hurt too much, though. He doubted you. That alone felt like a stab wound to the chest. The fact that it had come so suddenly only doubled the damage. "You don't think I'll be a fit mother, do you?"_

_His eyes widened. "No! I mean… Bones, you will be an amazing mother."_

_If there was a King of Mixed Messages, it would be Booth. You blinked. "Then why—"_

"_I can't not be involved," he blurted out. "I can't help create a... a __baby__ and not have them know me."_

He can't know that, you think. He can't promise you that you won't… He can't.

"I hope so," you manage.

His index and middle fingers tip your chin up. "I will, Bones." Then he averts his eyes. "But… in case I don't…"

"Booth!" you interject. "I don't want to… don't talk like that." Talking about it makes it feel real.

Brown eyes meet blue again, and you're taken by surprise when you see how vulnerable he looks. "I don't want to do this alone."

"_Of course my child will know you, Booth." You smiled at him. "You're one of my closest friends."_

_He was skeptical. "Like Angela?" _

"_Yes!" You were relieved that he understood; that this was settled. You were about to suggest going back to the suspect._

_Then you saw his expression. _

"_I don't want to be your male Angela, Bones," he avowed. "Or your baby's! I... want that kid to know who their dad is."_

_You thought you were going to scream. Where was this coming from? He had seemed fine with the plan! "I'll tell them when they're old enough to understand the artificial insemination process!" _

_He scoffed. "You mean, 'Hi sweetie, you know that big man I work with who brings food here sometimes? Yeah, you share half your DNA with him. No big deal, though.'" _

"_Is that what this is about? You don't want to feel __guilty__?"_

"_Yes. No! Bones." Booth seemed to have less idea what he wanted than you did, and since you were wondering if he had gone insane, that was saying a lot. You stared at him blankly as he took a deep breath and considered his words. "I want to change diapers. I want to see their first steps. I want to be there for baseball games, or science fairs, or whatever the hell a kid with both our chromosomes would like. I want to be there, Temperance!"_

_You were horrified. This is exactly what you _didn't_ want to happen. You should've known better than to ask him. This went against everything he stood for! But at the same time, you know you wouldn't be able to ask anyone else. Despite all your talk of calling an agency and looking into donors, you knew that, to you, there was no other option. _

_You opened your mouth to tell him this. But the one word that had been spinning around in your head since he had spoken snuck out instead. "Like a… family?" _

"You're not alone," you promise, brushing your fingers against his hand. It's warm, despite how cold the room is. "You have me."

He nodded. "Yeah." When he looks away, you wonder if you've done something wrong.

"Booth, I—"

"Bones, I need you."

You inhale sharply. "W… what?"

"In there. The operating room…" He repeats his former words. "I can't do this alone." Then he playfully pokes your hand. "And I figure, if I do die, looking at you will be a nice way to do it."

He would be unconscious. Medicated. He wouldn't be able to see you at all. But you don't tell him this. You understand what he's saying.

It makes you want to cry.

"_Yes!" he shouted, the sudden loudness of his voice startling you. _

_Once again the words spilled out before you had a chance to stop them. "I'm not sure I want that."_

_It was instantly obvious that wasn't what he wanted to hear. "I do," he said quietly. "I want that with you. That's why I can't do this. It's not enough." _

_He shot down the hallway, and, frustrated, you followed close behind. "Booth! There's a suspect in the other room!" _

"_He shook his head, which didn't disrupt his stride. "He didn't do it anyway. I can already tell." _

_Normally, you would be curious how he came to this conclusion. Your anger distracted you, though. "This is _so_ unprofessional!" _

_This stops him, and he turns around. "Wow, Bones, because you know you and I have always just been the picture of professionalism." _

_You thought you had. "I don't understand, Booth!" He was gone again. You sighed and followed him. "Have you lost your mind?" _

_He had turned a corner, and you chased after him, feeling ridiculous. He was so immature! And—_

_You stopped dead. _

_Booth was on the floor. You weren't sure if he was breathing. _

"_Someone call an ambulance!" you shouted in the general direction of the other people in the building. _

You nod, slowly. "Of course I'll go in with you, Booth."

"Thanks."

You run your index finger across the side of his pinkie, unsure of what else there is to be said. No—that's a lie. You're too afraid to say anything else.

"Bones," he starts again. "There's… something I need to tell you."

Your hand stops. "Booth—"

"Please Bones, just let me say this."

You think you know exactly what he's going to say. And you want him to say it. But because he wants to. Not because he thinks he has to.s

"Booth," you whisper as forcefully as possible, leaning forward so your lips are pressed to his cheek, close to his ear. "You can tell me when this is all over, okay?"

Booth told you that this wasn't enough. You disagree.

It's too much.

**--**

Thoughts? I'd love to hear them. Thanks for reading!


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